


Crumble

by newbie93



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst with a healthy side of angst, F/M, Inhuman!Fitz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-06
Updated: 2016-03-06
Packaged: 2018-05-25 01:06:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6174037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newbie93/pseuds/newbie93
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After days spent tracking down a kidnapped Fitz, Jemma finds herself in an abandoned Hydra base facing her worst nightmare.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crumble

**Author's Note:**

> I just had this visual of something along this vein and posted a brief spark notes version of it on Tumblr and then somehow this happened. Quickly written and not betaed so... apologies for any potential errors.

There’s a dull roaring in her ears that Jemma knows has nothing to do with the thrumming engines of the QuinJet. She knows this with certainty because the noise has been a constant over the past thirteen days, eight hours, and… twenty-four minutes. 

It’s been deafening her since Daisy had run into the lab, blood spattered across her face and super suit dirty and torn, and tearfully informed her that the latest mission had gone sour, that not _everyone_ made it back to the base safely. 

That Fitz had been taken by the same thing that had, in a _different_ way, taken Will. 

She hadn’t even known Fitz was _on_ a mission, let alone one that would bring him face to stolen face with the monster that had haunted her dreams and cast a shadow over her days, and the realization of how much more distance had emerged between them since the reveal of what had _actually_ happened with It, Fitz, Will, and Coulson on that godforsaken planet was like a harsh slap to the face. 

It had been another fight with her arguing that he’d lied to her and him arguing that it was for her own good, that the half truths were meant to protect her from even harsher facts. The argument was the culmination of all of the ones they’d refused to have before, both too wary and uncertain of their place in each other’s lives to broach the subjects that were weighing them down. 

It was an argument that started with teary whispers and ended with slamming doors and a shouted, “I wish you’d never come back!” 

Her own voice echoes in her mind now, those six words, the biggest lie she’s ever told, playing on repeat as the image of Fitz’s distraught expression floods her vision. 

They’d studiously avoided each other since that verbal shot to the heart, eating meals in their respective rooms and staying on opposite sides of the lab, and the loneliness that had filled Jemma in his absence was a harsh reminder that she was intentionally staying away from the only person she ever really wanted near. 

But the hurt and anger had won out and, instead of running to her best friend and apologizing for her actions while demanding he accept responsibility for his, instead of having a _real_ conversation meant to allow them to both voice their feelings, she’d remained stubbornly silent. 

But then Daisy had crashed into the lab, broken the silence, and Jemma’s been shouting ever since. 

Shouting at Coulson for bringing that _thing_ to Earth and making Fitz his unwilling accomplice, shouting orders to agents and lab techs alike to find _anything_ to get her partner back, shouting at the picture of Fitz that had brought her such comfort on Maveth, and shouting at herself for all of the terrible things that she can somehow trace back to her. 

Shouting at herself for saying the things she doesn’t mean and only thinking those she does. 

“Four minutes out.” 

The sound of May’s voice in her ear startles her out of the black hole of guilt that she’s been stuck in for years now and Jemma tightens her hand around the ICER that Daisy had thrust into her arms before boarding the plane. She hadn’t told her friend that she’d already tucked a very _real_ gun into the waistband of her tact suit, not wanting to see the look that so many had given her upon realizing how far she’s willing to go to bring Fitz home. 

She glances around the plane now and feels her eyes prickle as she takes in the sight of all of the people willing to face death with her. Bobbi is twirling her batons in the seat to her left with Hunter cocking his gun on her right, both wordlessly sandwiching her, their physical presence speaking volumes. Mack and May sequestered in the cockpit. Daisy and her warriors seated across from her, Joey’s foot bouncing nervously, Lincoln shooting small sparks between his hands, and Yo-Yo unnaturally still as the plane makes its descent. 

Jemma’s eyes fall on Daisy last and, when she meets her friend’s unwavering gaze, she feels another surge of adrenaline begin to course through her body. Daisy gives her a small nod before unstrapping and barking orders, commanding the plane like the leader Jemma reckons she was born to be. 

There’s a brief moment of silence as the plane touches down, the calm before the proverbial storm, and Jemma takes a steadying breath before adopting the hardest expression that has ever graced her face. It’s not difficult in the least when she reminds herself that Fitz has been imprisoned at this Hydra base for two weeks, enduring who knows what. 

The moment the cargo doors open, the calm is replaced by chaos. 

The predetermined teams immediately break apart, Bobbi, Hunter, and Joey sprinting to the left perimeter while May, Mack, and Yoyo move right. This is _technically_ Daisy’s op, but neither she nor Lincoln questions it when Jemma motions for them to follow her through the doors ahead. 

The base is eerily quiet but the scattered paper that litter the floors and general mess in the corridor makes Jemma certain that they aren’t walking into a trap so much as they’re walking into a facility that had quickly, and _recently,_ been evacuated. 

_They knew we were coming but they haven’t known for long._  

Jemma’s grip on her ICER tightens as she rounds another corner, eyes flitting left and right as she searches for _any_ indication that Fitz had been here. The general lack of _anyone_ causes her chest constrict and her mind to conjure up images of Fitz being within her reach and then taken away _just_ before she could find him. 

“This place is dead on our end. You guys find anything?” 

Hunter’s voice in her comm makes Jemma flinch, the audible confirmation that this mission was likely for naught like a sharp needle to a too-inflated balloon, and she’s grateful for Daisy’s answering, “Negative,” because it means she doesn’t have to try and find the words to explain that this has been another bust. 

Still, there’s more ground to cover and Jemma won’t be leaving this facility until every inch has been traversed. 

In a moment of serendipity, _not_ the result of the whim of the cosmos, a man in tactical gear rounds the corner opposite the trio just after Jemma’s silent vow and she wastes no time shooting a round of ICER bullets in his direction. The action isn’t meant to hurt or even incapacitate him, he’s wearing a bullet proof vest after all, it’s meant to _distract_ him just long enough for Daisy to work her own magic and send a burst of air to knock him off his feet. 

They’re beside him in a second and Jemma barely processes the fact that she’s throwing punches until Lincoln’s arms wrap around her and Daisy takes her place, pinning the Hydra goon down and demanding he tell them about the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent that was being held here. He resolutely refuses to say anything, no doubt happy to comply without needing to be brainwashed to do so, and glares at them as blood trickles from the nose that Jemma’s fairly certain _she_ broke. 

After a few minutes of getting nowhere, Daisy and Lincoln share a look before the former shrugs and nods her head at her boyfriend. The silent approval is all he needs before his hand is crackling with electricity and moving steadily towards the nameless agent that Daisy is still pinning down. Jemma watches the other man’s eyes widen in alarm as the buzz of electricity grows louder and, if she didn’t hate him with every fiber of her being, she might actually be impressed with how long he lasts before the threat of being electrocuted has him shouting with Lincoln’s hand a centimeter away from his throat. 

“It’s the third door on the left! That’s where they were keeping him!” 

Jemma is sprinting down the hall before the man has even finished speaking, leaving Lincoln, Daisy, and Hunter to take care of the Hydra thug in whatever way they deem necessary, too focused on Fitz to care whether or not she’s running defenseless into a trap. 

If Fitz can jump into a portal to another universe without having any idea where it leads just to find her, she can sure as _hell_ open a door to another room on earth in order to find him. 

She bypasses the first two without a glance before slamming her shoulder into the third one with a shouted, “Fitz!” 

Her eyes scan the space quickly once she’s entered it and the frantic energy she’s been feeling all day disappears immediately at the sight of what’s in the middle of the otherwise empty room, breath whooshing out of her and tears springing to her eyes of their own accord. 

On the flight over here, and the days preceding it, she’d mentally come up with a dozen scenarios of what she might find. A bruised and beaten Fitz tied to a chair, an unharmed Fitz doing that monster’s bidding in order to protect his friends, an empty room that Fitz had escaped from. She had stopped herself before her mind could conjure the worst-case scenarios but, even if she _had,_ she never would have pictured this. 

“No.” 

The feeling that consumes her is reminiscent of her final moments in the med pod but the hundred punches to the stomach that _that_ event had caused pales in comparison to the million that are barreling into her now. 

“No, no, _no._ ” 

She feels that same suffocating pain and panic that she’d experienced 20,000 leagues beneath the sea and, just like so long ago, she is unable to fight it, unable to find another solution, unable to change what she was too slow to prevent. She takes a tentative step forward, moving closer to her nightmare, and tastes the saltiness of her tears as she does. 

He looks terrified, eyes wide in horror and mouth frozen in a frightened shout, and Jemma is barely aware of the sharp sting on her knees as she collapses to the ground in front of him. The new position allows her to spot the broken crystals lying beside his feet and the sight is like another crushing blow. 

This isn’t like Hunter jokingly taking a fish oil, excited by the possibility of power without fearing the possibility of destruction. 

This is new life, or death. 

The emptiness of the room, the entire _facility,_ and the fact that the Hydra goons expected to be at this base were gone upon arrival make it pretty evident that those in power had cleared out before S.H.I.E.L.D.’s jet had even touched the ground. 

Meaning Fitz has likely been encased in stone for, at _minimum_ , ten minutes. 

Jemma still doesn’t know all of the technicalities that come with Inhumans and their transformations but… from what she’s heard from Daisy and Lincoln, most who survive the process are breaking free from the rubble within a minute or two. The realization of what this means causes a sob to rip out of her and Jemma finds her vision blurred by the onslaught of tears now streaming down her face. 

_Too late. You’re too late._  

The words echo in her mind and she watches as all of the dreams and fantasies she’d never vocalized are ripped away from her, never to be achieved. Her arm reaches out of its own volition, instinctually wanting to grip the hand that is frozen in front of her, and she rips it back as she thinks of the fragmented pieces of Trip that she’d been forced to sweep into a dustbin so many months ago. 

Jemma buries her face in her hands, struggling to breathe as each inhalation of air feels like sandpaper against her throat, and keeps her eyes firmly shut until she hears something that sounds distinctly like cracking. 

Her head shoots up at the sound and she holds her breath as she spots a crack begin to form across Fitz’s outstretched hand. It starts at his fingers and slowly works its way along his arm and Jemma feels a surge of hope as the first pieces of stone begin to fall. 

The hope shatters completely when Fitz does. 

She watches in horror as piece after piece falls to the floor, revealing nothing but more rock and air. There’s no pasty flesh, no gasping breath, no azure eyes. Instead, everything is stone. She lets out an anguished cry as she watches Fitz’s frozen face fall to the ground and shatter in half before her eyes and doubles over as the reality of the situation crashes harder than the rubble before her had. 

She’s vaguely aware of the commotion outside, the quick yelp and sound of running footsteps, but can’t tear her eyes away from the shards of her best friend, her _Fitz,_ to bother figuring out what’s just happened. It’s not until she hears Daisy’s, “Jemma did you find hi… oh my god,” that she turns away from the ruins in front of her. 

The horror on Daisy’s face is a stark reminder that Jemma isn’t the only one who loves… _loved…_ Fitz and she feels her heart shatter even more at the tears that begin to stream down her friend’s cheeks. 

“No… this isn’t… we were supposed to… this wasn’t supposed to happen. We… we…” 

Daisy barely speaks in a whisper but Jemma has no problem making out the words. They cause another sob to break free and she feels herself sink further in on herself as she turns back around to look at the destruction lying a few feet away. She can hear Daisy’s sniffles turn into muffled crying and assumes that the soft murmuring is coming from Lincoln, but doesn’t want to look at the couple just to confirm her guess. Instead, she moves a shaky hand towards the largest fragment in front of her, Fitz’s stony head, and tentatively runs her finger along his cheek with another sob. 

_This wasn’t supposed to happen._  

“Jemma?” 

Her head snaps up at the sound of her name, whispered in that Scottish accent that sounds like home, and she glances around quickly before realizing her mind is just playing cruel tricks on her. There’s nothing in the room but the pile of rock that used to be her best friend and the broken crystals that took him away from her. 

The tears run in streams down her face, following the familiar routes that have seemingly been etched in her flesh, and the broken sobs that escape her are ones that she knows will exhaust her into sleep every night for the foreseeable future. She shuts her eyes tightly to block out the sight of Fitz’s stony eyes staring at her from the ground but can’t find any real respite since the image is burned in her mind’s eye, shifting in and out with the reflection of Trip being wheeled away from her in fragments. 

The memory causes a fresh wave of tears as she thinks about removing _Fitz_ from the base in a similar fashion. 

“Jem.” 

The whimper she releases at the sound of her name quickly transforms into a gasp at the feeling of warm fingers against her cheeks. Her eyes fly open and, when she’s once again met with the sight of an empty room, she rises to her feet and anxiously looks around. She turns to face Daisy and Lincoln, who are now looking in her general direction with matching faces of shock, as though they _too_ heard what she had. 

She glances back but, still, nothing has changed. 

Except… 

_Wasn’t that larger fragment closer to the crystals before?_

She stares at the pile of rubble, brows furrowing in contemplation as she tries to piece together the… _pieces_. There’s something off that she can’t quite place and she moves to push her hair out of her face to get a better look when the same warmth she’d felt before does it for her. She feels the fingers she can’t see tuck the wayward strands behind her ear, invisible thumb stroking the apple of her cheek in the process, and drops her mouth in shock as the smallest glimmer of hope begins to crackle within her. 

_Perhaps…_  

Her eyes frantically rove around the empty space in front of her before she extends her arm, gasping when her palm comes in contact with a sturdy chest. She stares at her fingers, seemingly touching nothing, and waits for a moment before launching herself forward and squeezing her arms around the steady figure in front of her. She shuts her eyes, following her body’s instincts and burrowing her face into the crook of his neck as her arms clutch desperately around his middle. 

The tears are still flooding from her eyes but this time in stupefied relief. 

Jemma lets out another small sob when she feels the weight of his arms wrap around her shoulders and the scratch of his stubble across her cheeks. She’s not certain how long they stay like that, wrapped up in each other and crying in relief, but when she finally manages to pull away, Jemma is met with the sight of red-rimmed eyes and _Fitz._  

He gives her a watery smile before glancing at some point behind her and saying, “You… you guys are going to have to teach me how to control that I think.” 

It’s such an absurd thing to hear after thinking he’d _died_ and Jemma finds herself grabbing his head in her hands and fusing her lips to his before Fitz can say anything else. 

He’s surprised, she can tell by the way he momentarily tenses against her, but in the next moment he’s kissing her back with an equal amount of relief and passion and Jemma lets herself get lost in the moment. 

They’re not in an abandoned Hydra facility. She hadn’t just briefly felt more grief than she has in the entirety of her life at the thought of him being dead. Daisy and Lincoln are _not_ standing a few feet away high-fiving in excitement. 

They’re just Fitz and Simmons, Leo and Jemma, sharing their _second_ first kiss. 

When they break away, Jemma doesn’t let Fitz get too far, instead burrowing her face back in its rightful spot in the crook of his neck and winding her arms around him as she whispers, “You came back to me.” 

She feels Fitz tense once again and cranes her neck so as to get a better look at him. She knows what he’s thinking of, the lie she’d told in a moment of frustration, and squeezes her arms tighter around his middle in the hopes that he’ll understand the gesture. His lips quirk up in a pale imitation of a smile, the kind of smile he plasters on to reassure her of something he doesn’t fully believe, and his hand moves to glide against her cheek and tuck that ever wayward lock of hair behind her ear. 

“Course Jem, whether you want me to or not.” 

She tugs his head down as she lifts her up and presses a smattering of kisses across his face, each one careful and slow, precise and calculated, before placing a lingering one on his lips. Her hands loop around his neck and when she detaches her mouth from his, she pulls him into another hug and, with more certainty than she’s felt about anything, she whispers into his ear. 

“I do. Want you to. _Always_ Fitz. Always.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously I do not think that Jemma is responsible for most of the things she FEELS responsible for, this was just from her perspective so much of the internalized loathing and angst is what I assume someone as generally selfless and burdened as her would feel.


End file.
